The Ruthless Heir

Judge’s [POV]

“Pregnant?” Erica asks, half sitting up, wincing as she does. She closes her eyes and takes a moment. I watch her, gripping the edges of my chair so tight my fingernails make crescent shapes in the leather. I’m so angry. So fucking angry.

“Yes, pregnant. It would explain the vomiting.”

“Vomiting? I was… Christ, Judge. Miriam threw a fucking paperweight at my head and gave me a fucking concussion. That’s the vomiting.”

“Miriam threw a paperweight at your head? Why are you lying?”

“You know what? Never mind.” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, looking disappointed. Disheartened. “You’re right. I gave myself a concussion. After giving her two black eyes. And I kicked myself in the ribs too. That’s what you believe, right?” She sits up against the headboard, pulls the blankets closer, and glances at her phone on the duvet. “You went through my phone? You have no right. How did you even get the password?”

“Santiago.”

She opens her mouth, and closes it, looking hurt and betrayed. I understand. “Did he look through it too?”

“Are you pregnant, Erica? You need to tell me now.”

“Oh, my God, you’re serious. No, Judge, I’m not fucking pregnant. How would I be pregnant?”

“Your texts with this man-”

“You don’t know anything!” She shoves the blankets off, taking a moment to look down at the unfamiliar shirt she’s wearing. It’s mine. I put it on her last night. She swings her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to my room.” She stands but wobbles.

I reach her in time, catching her just as her knees give out. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I put her back in bed, and she doesn’t argue. But I think that’s because she’s too weak. And I can see she’s nauseous. I see it in the way she clutches her stomach. How she squeezes her eyes and mouth shut.

“Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter and walk away, raking a hand through my hair as I wear a hole in the carpet. I glance at her to find her watching me and go into the bathroom to wash my face. I haven’t slept more than a few hours. I’ve been keeping an eye on her, waking her every couple of hours on doctor’s orders. And it shows in my reflection. Erica De La Rosa will age me.

Mercedes watches me with cold indifference when I return to the bedroom. Someone knocks on the door.

“Enter.”

Miriam pushes in and smiles at me. “Good morning, sir. I brought breakfast.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Erica mutters.

I give her a look to shut her up. “Thank you, Miriam. I’ll take it from here.”

Miriam glances at Erica, who’s staring daggers at her, but then turns to go.

“Just a minute,” I say.

She stops and turns back to me.

“Erica. I think you owe Miriam an apology.”

Erica snorts. “When hell freezes over. I didn’t do that to her.”

“Erica,” I say again. She’s not looking at me, though. She’s still glaring at Miriam. “Apologize.”

She shifts her gaze to me. “No. I don’t care what you do to me, but I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”

“Do you apologize for things you do?”

She folds her arms across her chest and looks away, the line of her jaw tight as she clenches her teeth.

“We’ll try again tomorrow, Miriam. Perhaps Ms. De La Rosa will be feeling better by then. Thank you.”

“Sir.” She nods, and turns to exit.

I bring my attention to the tray of food. If that’s what you can call it. It’s a lump of some unrecognizable slop. I pour coffee for Erica and carry the mug to her. She takes it and brings it to her lips, pauses to inhale as if she thinks it may be poison, then sips.

“I will punish you in front of her if you don’t apologize.”

She looks at me, quiet for a moment. “I didn’t hurt her.”

“Who gave her two black eyes then?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure there is a line of people wanting to do that. She’s a horrible woman.”

“I will punish you in front of her, Erica. Understand that.”

“And if you do that, I will never forgive you. You understand that.”

“So be it.” I carry the tray to the bed and set it on the nightstand, then push her blanket off. “Up.”

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“I will help you to the bathroom, then I need to go, and you need to get some sleep.”

“I’m fine.” She tries to cover herself again.

I take her wrist. “Up, Erica.”

“Fine.” She moves more slowly this time and leans into me as we walk into the bathroom. Once we’re inside, she turns to me and raises her eyebrows.

I raise mine, too, and lean against the doorframe, folding my arms across my chest.

“Oh, no. I’m not going to the bathroom while you stand there.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Judge”

“It’s either me or Miriam. You can’t get out of bed on your own. You could fall, hit your head again.”

“I didn’t hit my head! She threw…” But she stops, makes a sound like it’s pointless, then pulls down her panties and sits on the toilet to pee.

I look away, giving her that little bit of privacy. When she’s done, she flushes, washes her hands, and shoves me off when I try to hold onto her to take her back to bed. She climbs in herself and lies down, giving me her back.

“I need to take care of this missing person’s report. You will remain in my room. In my bed. Do you understand?”

Nothing.

I lean down so my face is inches from hers. The things I’m feeling right now, the betrayal, it’s strange. And more painful than I imagined it could be.

“Do you understand?” I ask again.

“Yes. Just do me one favor and lock the door so that woman doesn’t come in here and smother me in my sleep.”

I straighten and draw a deep breath in. “I’m trying to help you, but you’re so fucking tiring sometimes, you know that?”

She turns her head so she’s looking up at me, dark eyes misty. “You mean I’m not worth the trouble, right?”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t bother. It’s fine. I understand. Just go.”

“Erica”

“What the hell do you want from me?” she snaps, sitting up, squeezing her eyes shut with the swift movement. It takes all I have not to go to her. A part of me hates watching her like this.

“What I want is for you to be the woman you try so fucking hard to hide. I see her. You think I don’t, but I do.”

She shakes her head. “You’re mistaken. There’s no other, better woman. And you’re right. I’m not worth the effort. So just please get the fuck out of my sight and let me rest.” She drops back down, and I know this is done. For now. Her phone is still on the bed, and I pocket it, then walk out the door and lock it, leaving instructions she’s not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Because I don’t want Miriam going in there.